


Bad Waltz

by drD



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 20:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16182284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drD/pseuds/drD
Summary: Narcissa is not a huge fan of balls. She never has been. But the annual Hogwarts Samhain might bring something a little more exciting than the usual mundane gossip.Or, more troublesome, if Andromeda is involved.





	Bad Waltz

Let it be known that Narcissa was not a huge fan of the obligatory socialite appearance. It was always a tedious affair, filled with the smiles of the callous and the gossip of those who could no longer craft their own excitement or intrigue. It was impossible to claim a moment of silence to just  _ observe _ , to notice the gaudy assortment of too bright robes or even tasteless decorations dangling from undusted chandeliers. The point of attending was just to  _ attend _ , wasn’t it? Not to find herself the center, surrounded by the false-caring and starving fallen gentry. As if she could feed them all the political might she barely held--

Or, maybe it was the fact that she’d saved Potter, for  _ private _ reasons, that gained her this gawking cluster every Samhain Ball?

“And what a gorgeous dress you have, Narcissa. It certainly catches the eye--”

“-- _ I _ agree, Madam Malfoy. Would you happen to know about parchment code eighty-three?”

No, she did not know about parchment code eighty-three and what a  _ horrible _ pun that had been.

But they talked, and she politely replied while she wondered how much longer she could stand in her heels before chastising herself --  _ silly me _ , she thought,  _ forever and a day, of course. _

But the Samhain Ball, held at Hogwarts proper, was not just an event for the well-bred and groveling. It was a celebratory moment, for student and heroes to mingle and for some odd reason Great Britain had thought her one of those hero. Well, better to be that than whatever the world thought Lucius, rotting away as he was -- Merlin, bless his unfortunate soul.

So, why did they come to her? Instead of the more youthful across the way, laughing without care or maybe without sense. They seemed to enjoy themselves every year and she could use a break from playing  _ reformed  _ Death Eater’s wife. If the Headmistress hadn’t placed so much pressure to attend these sordid scenes she’d have spent the evening wandering the manor halls and--

And what, exactly?

Craving  _ more _ ?

The halls weren’t great intellectual company but neither were the usual collective. She needed to resolve this issue, eventually. It would do her no good to sit and waste away when there had to be something else to  _ grasp _ . Mustn’t allow her self-imposed solitude to drive her to madness -- least she end up like poor Bella… eventually.

“You see, parchment code eighty-three is an attempt to revitalize our rather ineffective education system.”

Narcissa paused for a moment, and glanced up from her flute of what she hoped was champagne to the politic wringing his hands before her. “Oh?”

This might be interesting--not the code, of course, but the stalking gait of the person rapidly approaching behind him.

“Yes, yes! And, it’s all very exciting. Perhaps, maybe, you’d like to explore the parchment over tea? I’m looking for supporters--”

“--Cissy.” The voice croaked at his back, low and unimpressed and a tad exasperated. It’s more than enough to startle him and Narcissa has to step back to avoid being splashed by the darker fluid in his flute.

“Goodness,” Narcissa hissed, with all the rolling storms of her disdain, “Do be a tad more careful.”

Behind him, the woman who looked so remarkably like  _ Bella _ twisted lips up in a slight smirk. Something wasn’t right there, Andromeda did not generally  _ smirk _ . Least, not anymore. Not after the war. But, since their reunion she’d seen many an expression on her more tactical sibling. Including the odd glint of something  _ off _ .

She’s up to something.

“Oh, so sorry, Madam Malfoy, I--”

He’d chased away her other conversational partner with his foolish  _ code eight-eight _ or whatever it had been, so she had no issue stepping around him to take Andromeda offered hand.

“What is it?” She could practically imagine the politician pouting as he patted down his robes, too bad she refused to turn around and witness it. “It’s unlike you to interrupt a conversation. What would Mother say?”

“Mother wouldn’t  _ say _ anything. She was more the sort to go for the wand over her words.” Andromeda said, before she tucked Narcissa’s arm within her own and led her toward the dancing space. “I’ve come to rescue you. And, perhaps, allow you to do something other than listen to the yearly hens.”

And how often had Andromeda left her to those very hens? “Seems a bit suspect,” She replied, but she didn’t resist when she was twirled onto the floor, timing her steps perfectly to slow but well-played music. “But I will play your game.”

Because, they were women of Black, and despite Andromeda’s want to play with the  _ Light _ , she knew they both enjoyed them. 

“You’ll be at little Teddy’s party.” 

There’s no ask in the soft words, it’s an order, but Narcissa had no intention of missing it. The end of the war had brought many truths, some of which were difficult to swallow, but she would not abandon the last of her family nor neglect them. Besides, with Draco set to wander it was nice to spoil another child. “Yes, of course.”

Andromeda spun her around then, a fancy learned maneuver, and in doing so Narcissa managed to catch the glance of a gathering crowd. There, just at the edge of the dance floor, stood various reporters and the Golden Trio, but it was Hermione Granger that seemed to be getting the bulk of the attention with her stoic pinched expression and clearly displayed ire.    


How curious, that. 

“Is it true Ms. Granger is running for Minister of Magic?”

“Mmmhmm,” Andromeda answered back, as if distracted. Well, Narcissa figured it had been some time since Andromeda had done a traditional wizarding dance. It made sense that Andy would be so focused, least she step on her baby sister's toes. Narcissa wouldn’t tolerate that  _ at all _ .

But, a focused Andromeda still did not make for great conversation and it really would behoove her to learn how to speak and waltz if she intended to marry again. Salazar knew Narcissa would, not that she  _ needed _ to but to have another waiting on her whims… well, she was still young, still able to plan and  _ achieve _ . It would be a waste to not push herself further, what with the burden of the Dark Lord no longer present. 

But she wanted to try something different. Someone who wouldn’t be able to resist, who would crumble beneath her will. Lucius had been fine enough, and she loved him dearly for it, but his aspirations had not aligned properly. Best to make sure both the partner and herself were on the same page, this time around.

The crowd nearby had gotten a bit louder, asking what Granger’s plans were, the motions she wished to pass. It was a little inappropriate to be asking such at a  _ ball _ wasn’t it? But they were legitimate asks. Now that she thought on it, she had only heard about the girl through the grips of her son. Potter was the only one of the Trio that bothered to visit -- and only then to drag Draco from his quarters -- so she was a bit curious…

“Ow!” Narcissa hissed, “Andy?!”

Andromeda grunted, adjusted her footing, “Sorry, Cissy.”

She wasn’t sorry at all.

Then, suddenly, from the crowd crowed a loud voice, smug and far too haughty -- “And Ms. Granger, what of your love life? Ever since your breakup with Auror Ronald Weasley you haven’t been seen attempting too--”

“--and what,” Granger’s voice interrupted, quiet thunder and a husk Narcissa would have thought impossible for someone to possess. It was almost enough to make  _ her _ stumble. “Would my love life have to do with my running for Minister?”

“We, the people, want to know that our Minister would have someone strong to support them. That our Minister’s House would continue--”

“--Oh?” Granger drawled, “Is this a pureblood traditionalist ask?”

The reporter seemed flustered, “This is a perfectly  _ normal _ ask, Ms. Granger! It is well known--”

“Is it?”

“-- _ Well known _ , that Ministers in partnerships present a more stable platform and charismatic personality. If you do not have children, how can you protect our own?”

There’s a mumbling from the gathered crowd, a slow wave of agreement. It’s all rubbish of course, a Minister can be powerful on their own just fine with the proper constitution. This reporter, clearly, had other ideas around leadership that had been fed to them via some other runner. Sabotage is not difficult to spot, not for Narcissa.      


What a shame.

“And there is proof of that?” There’s a curious curl of amusement in Granger's tone, something that, once more, pulls on Narcissa's attention even as she’s twirled again to the beat of the music.

“Y-yes!  _ Tons _ !”

“Would the people be soothed if I were dating--ah--courting another?”

There’s a pause from the crowd, before a different reporter spoke, “You’re courting someone?”

“Yes…” Granger replied, but something wasn’t  _ right _ about the way she said it…

Furthermore, Andromeda maneuvered them closer to the edge and the crowd beyond it. Perhaps, she too, wished to learn more. 

“Who?” The first reporter spat.

“Part.”

Granger gave the order like a militant leader and, though Narcissa could not see it she imagined the flock of people splitting at her command. She wanted to tell her sister to stop their slow shuffle, it would be a shame to pass up the perfect opportunity to find out who Granger claimed to be with. 

And, indeed, Andromeda did stop to stare over her shoulder which gave Narcissa the opportunity to turn--

Right into the arms of a suddenly there Granger, who tugged her forward with a startling amount of  _ power _ and brought her lips down upon her own. 

For a moment, Narcissa was frozen, trapped within Granger embrace and before wildly flashing photography. The  _ nerve _ of this girl, the… the…

But when she lifted her own hands to brush along  _ strong _ toned arms, she found herself wafting between the choice of pushing her away or experience the soft caress of lips against her own, lips that  _ took _ with an expertise she would not have expected. So soft and…

Then they were gone.

Narcissa swallowed nervously, bewildered by the event she’d been drug into, but not so off guard that she could not adjust. She licked her lips and savored the lingering tingle there before grasping Granger’s considerable biceps and cleared her throat. “I don’t enjoy performing for the cameras.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Granger rasped, soft breath against her lips, the lips she stared at in contemplation. 

Oh no, she would not steal another kiss, not from her, not without the  _ rules _ laid down first and--

“A moment, please.” Narcissa said, twisting in Granger’s grip but not yet released. This was going to be… difficult, if Granger thought she could just claim her on the dance floor and cling to her all night she had another thing coming. “Andromeda!”

The woman in question was already backing away, trying to avoid the approaching crowd of bewildered faces. But the expression she wore, the wide grin just shy of something Bella might have worn after a particularly bloody victory… She set her up!

_ That dick! _

She huffed, irritated by her own vulgarity before she leaned back against the girl who was  _ much _ taller than she remembered her being last. “You’re incredibly lucky, Ms. Granger, that I am not as despised as I was those many years ago.”

Granger giggled, something incredibly girlish in her ear, “Call me Hermione.” She whispered, because she began to weave their shared tale. “We’ve been courting for several months. I intend to take you to the current Minister’s Ball in six weeks time.”

Six weeks? They only had six weeks to build rapport and a conceivable relationship?   


“You do understand that, should we walk into a house of government together, it is no longer a game?”

Hermione dodged the question, “Help me become Minister. Harry told me you’ve been bored and with Mr. Malfoy in prison, you’ve the freedom to pursue other academic feats.”

And partners. It was true, very true.

“Then we should get started,” Narcissa was nothing if not pragmatic. Though, she was incredibly cunning and clever first. “I won’t be courted by a Muggleborn with no sense of propriety.”

Narcissa felt Hermione’s lips twist in a frown before she placed those lips against the side of her neck and  _ bit her _ .

Goodness, this girl had no  _ idea _ what she was getting into.

“None of that,” Hermione murmured against the thunder of her pulse. “Dinner, tonight I suspect.”

“Yes, and arrive in something a little less Muggle, if you would.”

Slowly she was released, but not before Hermione grumbled something  _ rude _ beneath her breath and drew wandering fingers across her covered thigh. Narcissa was proud of herself for stalking away with barely a tremble and ignoring the call of the reporters -- and a few other curious folk -- behind her. She didn’t have time to appease the crowd or address Potter and Weasley’s confused faces.

There was work to be done because  _ someone _ needed to put upstart Hermione in her place if this was going to work.

And she needed to kill Andromeda. 

Yes, she’d do that first.


End file.
